


Picking Up The Pieces

by lil_1337



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets by with a little help from his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up The Pieces

_I'm_ _**not**_ _stupid!_

Steve's fists hit the heavy bag in time with the words as they repeated themselves on loop. He might not be on the same level as Tony or Bruce, but then few people were so that shouldn't count against him. Despite what people might think he didn't get to be a captain in the US army or earn the right to lead his own squadron by being a pretty face. It was starting to get really tiring dealing with people who treated him like he was a slow twelve year old or a senile old man because he didn't have a favorite drink from Starbucks or know who the current hot actor was.

This last reporter had been the worst, alternating between the two as well as making some off camera comments that made it clear she wouldn't kick Steve out of her bed if he was so inclined. What that said about her he really didn't even want to consider. However, he sure as hell did not like what she was implying about his intellect or his morals.

"You are angry." The low rumble of Thor's voice pulled Steve out of himself though he did not respond immediately, letting the steady rythmn of his fists speak for him. When Thor settled into a comfortable stance making it clear he had no intention of leaving Steve gave the bag another one two combination and sent it swinging.

"Yes." Steve was too tired of playing games and wearing his public mask to pretend to anymore. He hated being less than honest when it came to his teammates. It was something he felt he owed them. As the leader of the team it was his job to set an example on the field and off. "Aren't you?" He stopped the bag then stepped away tugging roughly at the wrappings on his fists. "That reporter treated you like you were stupid the same as she did me. It was downright insulting."

Thor shrugged as he stepped further into the room, his face serious though a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. "I am a god, victorious in battle on this and many other realms. The thoughts of a single Midgardian has no meaning for me. My comrades in battle and the friends I have made know me for who I am."

Steve paused, the wrappings dangling from his hand making him look like a disheveled mummy in the process of shedding his bandages. "So it doesn't bother you when someone laughs at you or assumes you're stupid because you don't know things?"

"In the time of my father the ice giants attacked Midgard with the intention of owning her. My father attempted neogotiation first, but they refused beliving themselves stronger and smarter than the warriors of Asgard. In the end Asgard and my father were victorious and sealed the ice giants into exile in Jotunheim. Their arrogance brought about their downfall."

Steve sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. "So what you are saying is that being underestimated is not necessarily a bad thing."

"A true warrior uses everything that he can to his advantage." Thor clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder and squeezed. "You are an honorable man and a fierce warriror that I am proud to call my friend, but even you can not clear the eyes of those that choose to be decieved. You can only protect them from themselves."

Dipping his head Steve returned his attention to unwrapping first one hand and then the other. He heard Thor leave the room, but did not look up to acknowledge it. Having that strong sense of himself was something that Steve had spent most of his life searching for. It was something he had admired and envied in Bucky. Suited up on the battlefiled as Captain American Steve knew exactly who he was and what he was meant to be, but in civies, lost in a world that had kept going at a breakneck pace while he slept, he had no fucking clue. Being treated as if he was stupid did nothing to help ease doubts and self confidence issues he'd carried all of his life.

Sighing, he gathered up the sweat stained wrappings and wound them into a ball. With an accuracy that he did not even come close to possessing before the serum, he tossed them at the trash can and watched as they landed dead center in the metal bin. Sitting heavily on one of the wooden benches he clenched his fists, opening and closing them once, twice, then three times before muttering to himself. "This is pointless. Why the hell am I even here?"

"To save the world from bullies and evil men."

Steve's head jerked up and he spun on his heel startled and yet not surprised to see Natasha leaning casually against the doorframe. "I didn't know you were there." It was stating the obvious, but Natasha had a way of throwing him off his game. He'd never been good with beautiful women and she was gorgeous enough to leave most men tongue-tied.

She nodded then pushed off the wall. "I used to wonder the same thing. Why me? With all the red in my ledger and all the things I have done why was I the one that survived? The one given a chance to change my life and do some good in the world?"

"Used to? So you don't wonder anymore?" He scooted over a little making room for her to sit next to him on the bench.

"A wise man told me to use the opportunity I was given instead of trying to explain or justify it."

"Coulson?" Steve smiled a little, genuine affection showing on his face. Despite the slightly awkward hero worship he couldn't help, but admire a man who was willing to take on a god singlehandly with an untested weapon to boot. He not only laid on the wire he let the whole damn platoon crawl over him. That was the definition of a hero in Steve's book.

"Barton." Natasha raised an eyebrow in challenge at the surprise Steve could not hide. "There is more to him than shows on the surface."

A slow heat infused Steve's cheeks. Apparently he was just as guilty about making assumptions as the reporter he had been so angry at. Not that he had ever thought the archer was dumb, just more focused on the moment than anything metaphysical or philospohical. That must make him the worst kind of hypocrite. Sighing to ease the tightness in his chest Steve carded his fingers into his hair pulling on as his anger turned inward as it so often did these days. "I didn't know."

"Why would you?" Natasha's voice contained no malice though her gaze held him as securely as if he was shackled in place. "People judge us and make assumptions because of the job we do. That doesn't mean they are true. I can change someone's opinion of me just by what accent I use. It doesn't mean that I'm smarter or more honest." She shrugged, languid and graceful to puncuate her words.

Steve frowned, tilting his head slightly as he studied her trying to see past the layers of the persona she wore to the woman underneath. "So at the end of the day you know who you are no matter who you have spent the day being?"

"Yes. Do you?" The challenge was written in the tone though it held a hint of compassion and understanding. There were many ways to be undone and remade, but the journey had the same milestones no matter where the starting point was.

"I don't know, sometimes yes and sometimes no. There are days I do and others I have no idea." The honesty surprised him. It was one thing to acknowledge his emotions and something completely different to show weakness or uncertainity.

"Maybe that is the answer to your question."

"I not even sure I know where to start. It seems so jumbled up between Steve Rogers the ninety eight pound weakling, Captain American the superhero and Captain Rogers the soldier. I feel like I'm putting together three puzzles and all the pieces are mixed up in one box."

"Are you sure that it is not one interconnecting picture instead of three separate ones?" She smiled slightly and reached out to touch his arm. "You are only one man even if you represent different things to different people."

Steve startled, his eyes widening at the simple yet insightful statement. "You know," he said, a genuine smile softening the contours of his face and showing him for the young man he was. "I think it might be."


End file.
